


Bless This Mess

by katalizi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), captain america: civil war - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Pepperony - Freeform, fixit fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6759907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katalizi/pseuds/katalizi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The post-credits scene we deserved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bless This Mess

It had been hours since Tony’d read Steve’s letter and he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it. A part of him wanted to crumple it, tear it apart, throw it away and rage against every word written. But he knew that if he’d started throwing things, he wouldn’t stop. So he’d merely folded it carefully and slipped it back into its envelope, placing it slowly and precisely in the middle of his desk as some tiny, self-aware and self-prophetic part of his mind knew that he’d be re-reading and re-reading that one page note for days, weeks, months to come.

He’d pushed himself away from the desk and started walking. Aimlessly, thoughtlessly. He didn’t want to think. All he’d been doing the past couple weeks was thinking, overthinking, obsessing … and he couldn’t take that relentless white noise any longer. Back in the good old days he’d be out of the mansion like a shot and into some seedy bar or some seedy barmaid, drinking himself to oblivion where thoughts just didn’t matter anymore. More recently he’d barricade himself in his basement and … _tinker_. But now … now …

For some reason the mindless fog that had engulfed him lifted and he found himself far out in the middle of the incredibly spacious grounds near the tree line, the lights of the mansion spilling out in long golden streams that barely reached him. It was night. When had it become night? Dew was turning the grass around him silver and there was a distinct chill in the air that wasn’t overly unpleasant. Tony sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head back to look up at the stars, so clear and bright and beautiful … and distant and vast and cold and he was hurdling through a rip in the very fabric of reality as he witnessed something no person should have to see —

Tony snapped his gaze away from the sky and cursed. He couldn’t even enjoy something as simple as a starry night. Everything was tainted in some way. Loyalties. Friendships. He couldn’t even enjoy … when was the last time he’d actually enjoyed anything? He was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to run fast, no, he wanted to _drive_ fast, he wanted to move, to bolt, to run until his lungs and legs screamed with in agony and he collapsed, just like he’d done before, years ago, when he’d learnt … when he’d been told … _Mission Report: 16th December, 1991 …_

“Tony.”

There was a slight breeze that made the trees above him twitch and cooled the sweat on his brow. It carried a familiar, longed for scent. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. How? How could this be happening? That voice, so soft and so uncertain. It couldn’t be. Suddenly the half forgotten memory of an old myth sprung to the front of his mind and the absurd notion overtook him that if he turned around he would find no-one behind him, the woman he loved disappearing like smoke before he could even reach out to touch her.

“Vision let me in,” the voice continued. _God, how he’d missed the sound of it. Don’t turn around. She’ll leave if she sees you as you are._ “I wanted to see you, to make sure … I don’t …” She trailed off. _Please keep talking. Please._ “I should’ve called. I tried. I mean … I had my phone and your number and I tried to call but … but I guess I wasn’t … Tony, I’m sorry.” _Why am I shaking? It’s not that cold._ “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t strong enough to stay, to be the person you needed. I never was. But you knew that, didn’t you?” _Her voice … I want to cry … I won’t … her voice …_ “I wish … God, I wish a lot of different things, I … Tony …? Tony, please say something. Please.”

Her voice was trembling and he could hear her breathing becoming more uneven, and without turning he knew she was crying … she shouldn’t be crying …

He had no idea how it happened but suddenly he was in front of her, only inches away and yet still so far out of reach. He’d turned and she hadn’t disappeared like he’d feared and she saw him and hadn’t left, not this time, not yet. She seemed … unkempt. Or, at least, as unkempt as Pepper Potts could be, dressed in a loose fitting tracksuit with her unstyled hair out, hanging flat and lifeless around her pale and blotchy face. Her bloodshot eyes, bright with tears, fixed on his face and seemed to drink in every detail before she reached out hesitant hand and very lightly touched her fingertips to the faded bruise around his eye. A soft touch, a gentle touch. Tony couldn’t remember the last time someone had been gentle with him. Wait, yes he could. A kiss on the forehead and fingers trailing through the hair on the back of his neck in the early grey of morning, when he’d woken Pepper up as he finally came to bed. A few months ago. A lifetime.

And with absolute innocence she asked the question she’d already asked him a million times before. “Are you okay?”

And for the first time he answered that question without any of his usual deflection. “No.”

And suddenly her arms were around him and she was soft and warm and safe and he was crying and pulling her closer and apologising and explaining … and she trembled in his arms as he fell apart in hers.

The night was cold but his head felt hot as he tucked his face into the curve of her neck, his arms feeling like leadened weights that he couldn’t move away from her, and briefly he wondered if they felt like leadened weights to her too, if she’d left because his embrace was nothing more than cold iron that restricted and restrained. He knew why she’d left. He’d never understood why his mother _hadn’t_. If his mother had left his father, she’d still be alive today. If Pepper came back, if she chose to stay with him, he might be her death. He didn’t want her to leave. He hated himself for that.

When Pepper spoke, she spoke for both of them. “God, we’re such a mess!”

“Well, bless this mess, then,” quipped Tony before he’d even thought about it, and the unexpected burst of watery laughed that came from Pepper was enough to calm the shaking in his limbs, and he managed to relax his arms so he was able to cradle her to him rather than lock her close. She sighed and pulled back a little to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry I left,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

“I’m sorry I made you,” he replied, before he carefully leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

“What do we do now?” she asked as they pulled apart.

“Honestly?” He paused to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m … tired. I just want to lay on a soft bed in a warm room and listen to you breathe. I know romance wise I’ve never been great and this is probably a new low for you but —”

She stopped him with another kiss. “Sounds perfect.”


End file.
